


Sherlock (BBC) Reader Inserts

by Darthkitty24



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Doctor John Watson, F/M, Murder, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mystery, One Shot Collection, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Teen Mycroft, Teen Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24596386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darthkitty24/pseuds/Darthkitty24
Summary: Collection of reader inserts about the Sherlock BBC boys.
Relationships: Greg Lestrade/Reader, Jim Moriarty/Reader, John Watson/Reader, Mycroft Holmes/Reader, Sherlock Holmes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 93





	1. Beautiful, Sherlock

“John, what are you doing?” Ice-blue eyes glared up at the doctor.

“I’m watching a video.” He responded flatly, pausing it. “You might find it interesting. A high schooler made it as a project, recording people's reactions to being called beautiful.”

“Pointless.” The consulting detective turned his focus back to his microscope.

“Maybe you could try it on someone. It might brighten her day.” John muttered, implying he test it on their neighbor. The tenant of 221 C hadn’t spoken to Sherlock outside of rushed greetings since she first moved in. John couldn’t blame the poor girl after the deduction that spilled out of Sherlock’s mouth. He knew he could be rude but what he read off of (Y/n) could be classified as cruel.

_“John, Sherlock, I want you to meet your new neighbor.” Mrs. Hudson smiled, holding the (h/c) womans shoulders._

_“Hi, uh, my name is (Y/n) (L/n).” John stood and shook her hand._

_“I’m John. And this is Sherlock. It’s very nice to meet you.” (Y/n) gave him a shy smile._

_“Boring.” Sherlock spoke standing to inspect the young woman at Mrs. Hudson’s side. “Look at her John, she’s dreadfully ordinary. Extremely shy, self conscious, anxiety, and look how confident she is.” The last part dripped with sarcasm._

_“Sherlock, stop.” John ordered lowly._

_“Moved to London in hopes of finding a man who could possibly like such an unattractive person like herself along with the move her job did, an (job) I assume?” (Y/n) nodded to his question, unable to stop the pain growing in her heart. The genius continued to rattle off details about her miserable life until finally Mrs. Hudson pulled the girl downstairs._

_“(Y/n), wait!” The two men heard their landlady call followed by a loud slam. Sherlock sat down in his chair with a bored expression. John glared at his flatmate._

_“You just-ass. You’re an ass, Sherlock.” The soldier went to check on Sherlock's newest victim._  


“I don’t see why (Y/n) has anything to do with a simple social experiment.” The raven haired man mumbled.

“For me, Sherlock, just go and compliment her.” John knew that (Y/n) liked his estranged friend even after the evaluation he gave her.  


“ _He wasn’t wrong John. Look at me.” She sighed, sipping on her tea, gesturing to her stomach. John had invited her up after Sherlock left, going to the hospital to run tests. “It sucks, you know?” He looked up curiously._

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Liking someone who finds you repulsive. It’s the bane of my existence, really. I’ve always fallen for the unobtainable.” She laughed sourly, staring at her cup. John felt bad for the girl. He would have said she was cute, if he wasn’t dating someone else already. Sure she was bigger but it was nice._

_“He’s just a big idiot. I’m sure if you tried talking with him, maybe go on a case with him, he would loosen up.”_

_“Who would loosen up?” They both jumped, startled by Sherlock’s sudden appearance. “Does Miss (L/n) fancy someone?” He asked, already knowing she did._

_“Jeez! Don’t do that!” John yelled at him._

_“Is it Lestrade? You’d make a good woman for him. Less likely to cheat than his current wife.” The detective said, heading to the kitchen. (Y/n) placed her cup on the coffee table and left._

_“Dammit, Sherlock!”_  


The two men stared each other down for a minute before the taller one went to get his coat.

“Where are you going?” John demanded.

“Out.” Sherlock slammed the door to their flat and rushed down the stairs. He almost ran into someone in his haste.

“Sorry.” They both mumbled. It was (Y/n) he had almost trampled. He noticed her change in appearance.

“You’re going on a date.” He stated, judging by her dress and makeup. “He’s going to stand you up, if it’s the same man you courted last time. He’ll do it again.”

“Yes, I know.” (Y/n) brushed the hair out of her face. She noticed the slight look of confusion on his face. “Why would I go if I knew he was going to bail? Because it gives me a reason to get dressed up and out of the flat.” She answered his unasked question.

“Aren’t there other reasons why you could go out?” He inquired. The (h/c) shrugged.

“Not really. I don’t have any friends here other than John, Greg, and you, so if I’m not at work, I’m with John or at home.” If he was a normal person, he might have felt bad for the poor woman. “I’m not very good at the social thing, as you so wonderfully pointed out when we first met, so I’m glad Luke isn’t actually going to meet me. I’ll probably just grab a cup of coffee and head back.” Sherlock frowned. Is this what guilt felt like? (Y/n) started for the door, pulling her jacket tight around her as she was met with the brisk December air. It was weird to talk to him for so long considering how much she avoided him so she had to escape before anything happened to ruin it.

“(Y/n) wait.” Sherlock sighed. “Would you like to get coffee with me?” The woman stopped, turning in surprise.

“S-sure.” They walked right next door and sat at a small table, sipping coffee. (Y/n) held defensive posture that didn’t go unnoticed. Sherlock thought about what John had told him.

“You look nice today. Some might go as far as beautiful.” He stated. If she had been drinking at that moment, it would have been all over the detective.

“Yeah, okay Sherlock.” She stared down at the table, a frown on her face. Why hadn’t she perked up like John said? Her (e/c) eyes held so many emotions, but none were happy. “John’s been on youtube again, hasn’t he? He told you to say that.” Her gaze never left the scratch on the table.

“And you don’t believe it?” This experiment was not going as planned.

“Why should I? I’m ordinary and unattractive, remember? Besides, it’s always been a joke when said to me so I’ve learned to ignore it.” (Y/n) crossed her arms over her stomach as memories of school flashed in her head. He could tell she desperately wanted some kind of human companionship outside of friendship but it never offered itself to her. She had been alone all her life.

“I didn’t mean it in that I thought you were unattractive, I merely meant that it’s what you put off. That you found yourself so.” Sherlock defended himself. (Y/n) met his eyes, shocked at his words. “In fact, today is the most confident I had ever seen you, until I bumped into you. Dressing up gives you a boost, one you should always have. It’s nice.” She looked down again.

“Thanks.” Again doubt soaked her voice, irritating Holmes.

“How do you handle relationships if you can’t even take the compliments of a friend?” He asked snappishly.

“I wouldn’t know, never had one. Usually I just avoid whomever I like.” (Y/n)’s (e/c) eyes lit up with fear at the last sentence. She hadn’t meant to say that because he would surely figure it out. Sherlock sat there thinking of anyone she avoided, zoning out of reality to figure it out.

“You never avoid anyone but-” When the answer hit him he looked up to see she had fled. He threw money on the table and hastily left the shop, barging into 221. John looked down when he heard his flatmate rush downstairs to bang on flat C. “(Y/n) open the door!”

“Sherlock, what on earth is wrong?” Their landlady stood at the top of the stairs.

“Bring me the extra key.” He demanded. She complied, running to get it and throwing it down to him. He unlocked the door, going to her bedroom door. It was locked. “I know you’re in there and can hear me.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Sherlock. ‘You’re like a sister to me’. ‘I already like someone else’. You’re married to your work, I get it. Just don’t make me hear it again.” She sounded broken.

“I meant it when I said you looked beautiful. And that you should be more confident. It suits you.” Sherlock leaned on the door. “You’re not used to hearing it out of sincerity, but it’s true. And if you’ll allow, we could both try the relationship thing.” A click was heard and the door swung open, almost making Sherlock fall.

“Why?” (Y/n)’s eyes were red from crying and her cheeks were still wet with tears. He didn’t respond, only pulled her to him. The woman didn’t know what to do when he kissed her. He pulled away quickly, hoping he had made his point without having to verbally explain. “Okay Sherlock.” She gave him a small smile.

“You really are beautiful, especially your real smile.” He hugged her close, rubbing her back as she started to cry again. For the first time in forever, they were tears of happiness.


	2. Tell Him Or I Will, John

Faint music could be heard from the apartment below the detective and the blogger.

“John, go and tell her to quiet down. I’m trying to practice for tonight.” The taller of the two demanded. He brought his violin back to his shoulder and started playing again. John sighed, folding his newspaper and setting it down.

“She’s not being loud Sherlock.” He sighed, getting up and going downstairs because there was no arguing with the sociopath. John knocked on the door but there was no answer so he let himself in. The smell of brownies and other sweets filled the air along with his neighbors voice singing along to some christmas song.

“ _I had Christmas down in Africa, Gonna deck the halls and do the things we never had_ ” She was in the kitchen icing triangular shaped brownies. He couldn’t help but smile at her as her blanket cape fluttered as she rushed around the kitchen working on various treats for tonight’s party. The (h/c) haired woman nearly dropped the bag of icing when she saw John standing on the other side of the kitchen island.

“Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“No it’s ok. Uh, what’s up?” (Y/n) cut her music down and smiled at her visitor. He just shrugged, sitting down and looking over her assortment of cakes and biscuits.

“Nothing, just coming to check on the snack situation.” The woman smiled, happy that he was interested in her baking.

“Well I’ve been slaving over this oven for hours now. Oh!” She stopped her piping and looked up at John seriously. “Katie isn’t allergic to anything is she?” He rolled his eyes.

“No, Beth is perfectly healthy.” He said sarcastically.

“Right, sorry. I can never remember their names.” (Y/n) apologized, handing him a brownie with green icing to make it look like a christmas tree. He bit into it and she turned to work on dipping pretzels into white chocolate and rolling them in red sprinkles to look like santa hats.

“You probably wouldn’t even remember their name if you were my girlfriend.” The doctor joked. (Y/n) tensed up at his laughter, her hand jerking and sinking into the molten chocolate.

“Shit!” She hissed, rushing to the sink to run cool water on the burn. John jumped up to check on his friend. He inspected her hand.

“Nothing serious, next time stop at the pretzel and try not to dip your fingers in anymore chocolate.” He cooed. He glanced at the clock. “I’ll see you later, (Y/n). I’m going to send Sherlock down to help carry the snacks up!” John waved as he darted upstairs. After he disappeared, the (h/c) went and fell face first on her couch with a groan, allowing the blanket to cover her up.

“Why are you so jumpy, (Y/n).” She berated herself. Why did she have to fall for such a man as John H. Watson? He was kind, sweet, handsome, but always dating another girl. _He’s military and fit so he’d never go for someone like me_ , she thought. “Come on, stop feeling sorry for yourself and go get dressed!”

~

When (Y/n) had showered and dressed for the evening, she went to the kitchen to start carrying food upstairs.

“Hi Sherlock.” She didn’t even bother looking at the dark haired man on her couch.

“I let myself in.” He stated, standing to help.

“I see that.” She loaded his arms down with plates of snacks, gathering the rest herself along with her bag of presents. “Thanks for sending John down earlier by the way.”

“He said you burned your hand.” She shot him a glare at the mirth in his voice. “Just tell him or I will.” Sherlock lead the way upstairs.

“Go ahead Sherlock.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, you should call his current girlfriend ‘Katie’. He was very pleased by that one. Just play it off though so he doesn’t know I told you.” They both chuckled.

“What are you two giggling about?” Mrs. Hudson took some things to help the two out as they entered 221 B. “Oh. Don’t you look just beautiful!” She gushed over her newest tenant. (Y/n) gave a small smile to the older woman. Her hands nervously grasped at the lace layer of her red and black plus size dress.

Greg Lestrade was first to arrive, followed by Molly Hooper and her boyfriend/Sherlock lookalike Tom, and finally John returned with Beth clinging to his side. Everyone was having a great time chatting and snacking. (Y/n) served everything to give Mrs. Hudson a break for once. John sat in his chair with the brunette on the arm, holding his hand. She could see Sherlock analyzing the stranger.

“Everything is delicious, (Y/n).” Molly smiled at her when she offered to refill her glass of wine.

“You look great tonight.” Greg offered sweetly. “Whoever he is, he’s an idiot not to like you.” The D.I winked at her, speaking loudly enough that everyone could hear him. Did everyone know that she liked John? (Y/n) blushed and glanced at Sherlock. Sherlock had a strange look on his face.

“(Y/n), let me help you in the kitchen.” He looked serious. The two silently walked into the kitchen, away from prying ears. “She’s cheating on John.” The woman’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“John’s girlfriend. She’s been cheating on John.” (Y/n) clenched her fists in anger.

“Well are you going to tell him?” She hissed. He nodded. “Okay, let’s just go act normally then until you talk to him.” Heading back to the party, they heard a conversation.

“It’s obvious that she likes him, that’s why he had to go shut her down. Who could blame him? I wouldn’t want to date someone who looked like her.” A brash voice rang out. Beth sipped on her drink, watching as the (h/c) haired woman sat down beside Tom. Everyone looked uneasy, worried she had heard.

“Sorry, he remembered an experiment in the fridge that needed to be move to make room.” She smiled, playing it off as if she hadn’t. They seemed to believe her, slowly returning to their previous conversations. (Y/n) just sat silently, glancing at Sherlock every so often to make sure he would tell John. The army doctor quietly scolded his date.

“What? It isn’t my fault no one wants to date a cow.” Beth made sure she was loud enough so that she knew (Y/n) had heard. (E/c) eyes filled with anger, (Y/n) stood up and left the flat, not stopping until she was locked away in her flat.

Back at the party, John had shouted at Beth for being so mean to his friend. Sherlock kicked the woman out but only after reading her for everyone to hear. John was about to head down to apologize to his friend when Sherlock stopped him and whispered in his ear.

~

After a good sleep, the anger had left (Y/n) but instead left the usual self doubt in it’s wake. With tired (e/c) eyes, pulled on a pair of jeans and a flannel with a coat over that, going out to get milk for her dry cereal. She was surprised when she opened her front door to find John proped up against the wall asleep. Had he been there all night? She lightly stepped over him, exiting to run her errand. When she came back, he was still sound asleep. A smile graced her lips as she once again crossed him and entered her flat. (Y/n) returned with a blanket and a pillow for her exhausted soldier.

“(Y/n)?” He mumbled when she lifted his head to place the pillow behind it. She froze, hoping he would fall back asleep. Of course that wasn’t her luck. John stood on wobbly legs. “I wanted to talk to you ab-”

“It’s okay, John. She was right. Now go get in your real bed before you hurt your neck sleeping against the wall.” (Y/n) went to close the door, trying to escape.

“Wait!” He caught it, opening it back up. “Sherlock told me. Is it true?” So he had told him about his cheating girlfriend. She nodded.

“Yeah, it’s true.” A sigh escaped her lips. “I’m sorry, John.” A smile broke out on his face. John pulled the woman to him, kissing her lips. (Y/n) didn’t know what to do! She did the only thing she could think of, gently placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed back. They broke apart after a bit.

“I’m sorry about Beth. After Sherlock kicked her out, he told me that you liked me back so I waited.” He hugged her tightly.

“Wait. Liked you back? You liked me?” John nodded, pecking her lips quickly. Her eyes widened. “Wait, Sherlock told you I liked you?” Her voice was low, almost angry. She broke free from her now boyfriend. (Y/n) ran up the stairs and barged into the flat. John laughed as he could hear her yelling at Sherlock for doing what he did, and the detective defending himself with ‘I told you I would if you didn’t.’. He let it go on for a bit before he figured he ought to step in and save his flatmate.

“(Y/n), he’s fragile! Don’t hurt him too badly!”


	3. Perfect, Mycroft

“My, where are you going?” A soft voice made the government figure freeze.

“No where my dear.” He didn’t turn around.

“You better not be going to work out. You have five seconds to get back in this bed or I’ll call your brother.” The brunet glanced back at the woman. “One, two-” He knew he couldn’t win against her.

“Alright.” With a sigh, he rejoined her in the bed. She wrapped her arms around him. “You know I hate when you use Sherlock against me, (Y/n).” He nuzzled into her (h/c) locks.

“It worked didn’t it?” She muttered into his chest. “Why do you go?” Her question made him sigh.

“You know why. I’m trying to lose weight. Don’t you want me to look my best for you?” (Y/n) frowned at her boyfriend.

“You already look your best, My.” She propped herself up on her elbows, giving him a serious look.

“Just a few more pounds.” The woman got up, putting on jeans and a jacket.

“Then let me help you lose a few.” (Y/n) hurried out of her flat, leaving Mycroft alone on the bed.

~

(Y/n) raised a hand to knock on the door when it swung open.

“He’s been working out again.” Sherlock observed from the miserable woman on their stoop. The detective had to control his urge to push her away as she hugged him, her body shaking from the sobs. John came down to see what was taking his flatmate so long and stumbled upon (Y/n) crying into Sherlock’s chest while he gently rested his hand on her hair.

“(Y/n), come on, I’ll make you some tea.” The doctor smiled, detaching her from her boyfriend’s brother. The three went up to 221 B where (Y/n) sat in Sherlock’s chair, John went to make tea, and the detective busied himself with his microscope. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the relationship problems of his idiot brother and the woman currently sniffling in the living room, he was just smart enough to know he wouldn’t be much help. He could at least hear them and use this incident as leverage for a future problem. The (h/c) woman was the closest thing to a sister he had, practically his sister-in-law with how long her and Mycroft had been together, and he disliked when his brother hurt her.

“Here you are.” John handed (Y/n) a cup and sat down in front of her. “Tell us what’s wrong.”

“My told me he wanted to lose a few more pounds and I told him I could help him lose a few and I left.” She sighed into her tea. Sherlock couldn’t help but smirk at her remark. John laughed out loud, earning him a glare. “He doesn’t need to lose weight! He is perfectly fine the way he is. If anyone needs to workout, it’s me.” The soldier was at her side in a heartbeat.

“Now listen, (Y/n), you stop talking like you’re the problem. You are healthy and beautiful, and Mycroft is an idiot if he doesn’t tell you everyday.” John knelt in front of her, taking her hand in his. Sherlock felt the air shift.

“John, he could have any woman in the world. He could blackmail Adele into marrying him! If I were him, I’d choose someone prettier. Anthea seems to be a fair choice.” (Y/n) pulled her knees to her chest. She looked at Sherlock and followed his gaze to the door. “Excuse me, boys. I’ll be heading home now.” She stood.

“Come now, a lovers spat would be most entertaining right now.” Sherlock sneered at his brother, John glared at him.

“This doesn’t concern you, brother mine.”

“Whose flat did your girlfriend run do?” John hit his flatmate. (Y/n) gave her two friends a thankful smile before pushing past Mycroft. The elder Holmes glanced over the two men and followed the (h/c) woman to the car waiting outside.

“Anthea?” Mycroft slammed the car door shut just as she tried to open it.

“Why are you always concerned about how you look? It isn’t for me, so who for?” The woman shouted at him. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“It was for you.”

“Do you ever listen to me? I don’t want you to change, you look fine how you are, My.” She looked him in the eye. “Are you trying to tell me something?” Mycroft grabbed her shoulders.

“(Y/n) listen! I’m not leaving you.” He kissed her forehead. “Please, believe me. I’m doing this to make you happy and if it isn’t, then I’ll stop.”

“My, you are perfect.” (Y/n) gently touched his cheek. “You don’t need to prove that to me.” She went to kiss her idiot boyfriend but he pushed her away.

“Let’s continue this at home, away from the virgins prying eyes.” She laughed, glancing up at the window where the curtains were pulled shut. The two got into the car.

“Maybe you should hire him a prostitute.”

“If Adler couldn’t help then he’s totally hopeless.”


	4. It Makes Us Friends, Jim

_You’re ugly_

_Why are you so fat_

_No one likes you_

She walked down the hallway with her eyes cast down. How could children be so cruel to one another? Students ran into her on purpose.

“Move it.”

“Watch it, porky!”

One boy pushed the girl to the ground, scattering her books and papers.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” He sneered. The boy stepped on her work. “Oh, I’m sorry. I messed up your precious homework.” He ground his foot and ripped up an essay. No one stopped him. No one helped the girl.

“The homework is not what I cherish, it’s the knowledge that you’ll never be anything in this life other than absolutely stupid that brings a smile to my miserable face. How does it feel to be imbecilic and dull, Carl?” The girl glared at him as she spat in his face.

“How dare you!” He raised a hand to strike her.

“Mr. Powers, what is going on?” A teacher stepped out of her room.

“(Y/n) had fallen and I was simply helping her up.” He said innocently. The teacher eyed the girl.

“It’s true, Miss.” She sighed. (Y/n) gathered up her papers and things, hurrying to her class.

~

Her (h/c) hair fluttered as she went to her locker. (Y/n) was less afraid to walk down the halls of the middle school than she had been a year ago. She noticed a commotion a ways down from her locker.

“Irish trash!” A familiar voice said harshly, laughing. (Y/n) pushed through the crowd of 11-year-olds to see who Carl’s newest victim was. A boy with black hair stared boredly at the bully. “What did you call me?”

“I called you stupid, though now that I think on it,” His Irish lilt filled (Y/n)’s ears. “Calling you that would be an insult to all the stupid people in the world.” She smiled at his insult.

“You litt-!” Carl started to shout at the boy.

“You know, a boy with your IQ should have a lower voice to match.” (Y/n) shoved him away. She turned to the new boy. “Ignore him, if idiots could fly, this would be an airport. Carl here, the pilot.” The boy laughed.

“Shut it pig.” Carl growled at her.

“You know that pigs are much more intelligent than you right? Thanks Carl, such a nice compliment.” She rolled her eyes and grabbed the Irish boy's hand, leading him out of the crowd of students. The two stopped once they reached the roof. “I come here to get away from them all.” (Y/n) sat on the ledge, feet swinging over the ground two stories below.

“Those wretched children, do they always pick on the abnormal? The intelligent?” She nodded.

“I’ve dealt with this lot for years. Most of them used to be my friends but then they got older. They got mean.” The girl glanced at him with curiosity lacing her (e/c) eyes. “When did you start here? I’ve never seen you around before.”

“I just transferred after someone at my last school...disappeared.” He smirked maliciously at the last part.

“What’s your name?” He sat beside her.

“Jim.”

“I’m (Y/n).” She smiled at him. Maybe he was diffe-

“(Y/n), have you ever considered getting rid of the problem?” Her chest tightened and she looked out across the parking lot.

“I’ve tried to lose weight but it ju-”

“No, not you darling. You are _not_ the problem, you’re perfect.” Jim grabbed her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. “I meant Carl Powers.” She blushed a bit.

“I-I mean I’ve mentally annihilated him more times than the universe has stars, but I don-”

“How? Tell me some of your ideas.” He was sincerely interested in what her advanced brain had came up with.

“Well my most probable way was using his eczema against him.” The Irish boy smiled.

“That’s brilliant.”

“Thanks.” (Y/n) blushed more, no one had ever complimented her on her murder plots before. “He uses a cream for his sores. I always imagined putting some kind of natural poison in it and letting it seep into his body with applications. I can’t figure out one I liked though.”

“Clostridium botulinum.” Jim suggested.

“The bacterium they use in botox? Perhaps, but I don’t see how two eleven year-olds are going to get a hold of that.” She sighed. He stood, ruffling her (h/l) locks.

“I’ll take care of it. You just get his medication.” (Y/n) looked at him in surprise.

“You mean you’re going...kill him?” She whispered the last part. He laughed.

“No, darling. _We_ are going to kill him.” The boy left. The (h/c) ran downstairs to find Carl’s locker. She stopped, raising a shaking hand to the combination lock. Was she really going to do this? Was she going to kill a boy because he had made her life hell? What if they got caught? She turned the lock to see the numbers scratched into the metal. _Idiot_ , she rolled her eyes. _He’s too stupid to even remember a simple four digit combination_. She turned the dial and lifted the knob, revealing Carl’s belongings. (Y/n) snatched the tube and slammed the locker shut before she slid the cream in her pocket.

~

“(Y/n) look!” Jim shook the girl awake. She bolted upright and glanced at the clock.

“What the hell, it’s five am!” She whispered angrily. “How did you get in my room?” The black haired boy shoved a newspaper in her face.

“We did it!” He was so excited. (Y/n) noticed the headline: ‘Promising Swimmer Drowns During Practice’.

“It says his muscles locked up. That was us!” She felt sick, rushing to the adjoining bathroom to wretch. Jim followed her, kneeling beside her and rubbing her back. “I-we killed him.” She fell back against the sink cabinet, holding her temples. Her body trembled with fear.

“Calm down. (Y/n), look at me and breathe.” Jim soothed. (Y/n) flitted her (e/c) eyes to his, tears already pooling. “We rid the world of a cruel person. He hurt you, so we hurt him.” He pulled her into a tight hug.

“What does this incident make us?” Her voice shook thinking about the murder. The Irish boy kissed her forehead.

“It makes us…friends.”

~

“Darling, is he almost ready?”

“Pulling on his coat now!” (Y/n) called, pulling his jacket together. “There we are, what do you think John? I think countdown clocks and wires are the new London fashion.” She smiled at the man.

“Why? Why are you helping him?” John glared at the woman.

“He’s my friend. Ever since Carl Powers decided to pick on him and I came to his rescue.” She led him to the room just off from the pool. “Right git he was, always picked on me. I was so scared after we did it.” Her eyes clouded at the memories.

“So you two killed him because he laughed at you?” Jim came in at that moment.

“Don’t forget this, darling.” He placed an earpiece in her hand and gave a chaste kiss to her lips before leaving again. She fixed the device in John’s ear. John’s eyes widened.

“You love him, that’s why you stayed.”

“He was the only person to ever look past my weight. He treated me better than any man ever did. Funny isn’t it? Mass murderer being kind to someone, makes me chuckle too.” (Y/n) made sure everything was in place.

“It’s over, Sherlock is going to get him. And you.” The doctor said. She laughed.

“Oh my dear Dr. Watson.” (H/c) hair fluttered as she twirled around to leave and in a singsong voice she taunted. “The game has only just begun.”


	5. Never Kept Tabs, Mycroft

_“Sherlock? Is My home?” The woman bounced on her feet, clutching a grocery bag, when the youngest Holmes answered the door. The 15 year old sighed._

_“No, he’ll be back in half an hour.” He started to shut the door but was stopped by her foot._

_“Can I wait for him then?” She smiled. “We could play chess.” He reluctantly let her in, if only for the satisfaction of beating her repeatedly. They sat quietly with only the click of the pieces hitting the board._

_“Check mate, (Y/n).” The boy smirked. “Want to try for a fourth loss?” The (h/c) tapped her finger to her chin, pretending to think._

_“Hmm, no.” She stood, stretching and walking over to Sherlock. “I think I want to…mess with my darling Sherlock!” She leaned over him and tried to tickle him. The raven haired boy was like a little brother to her and she enjoyed annoying him._

_“St-stop!” He fought against her. He wasn’t ticklish but it was still funny to wrestle the serious kid. He decided to use her tactics against her as he reached and poked her pudgy side._

_“No! Wait!” Tears prickled her eyes as she laughed. She heard her friend coming up the walk. “Truce! Truce! Please, he’s here!” Sherlock let her up, more so he didn’t get caught being childish. (Y/n) ruffled his hair before grabbing her bag and heading up to Mycroft’s room. She hurried to set out her surprise._

_Mycroft hauled himself into the house, ignoring his brother’s stare. He opened his door and set down his umbrella, noticing the faint candlelight that illuminated the room. This would prove to be another busy night._

_“(Y/n), what are you doing?” He didn’t turn around. A pair of (s/c) arms wrapped around his waist._

_“I came to see you before you left for Uni again.” She mumbled into his back. Mycroft turned around to see his girlfriend in nothing but his favourite button-up and underwear. She gently held his cheeks in her hand, bringing him down for a passionate kiss. He shrugged out of his jacket without breaking contact._

_“How thoughtful of you.” He joked as they broke for air._

Her eyes fluttered open when someone shook her awake.

“Ma’am, your stop.” The cab driver said nicely. She thanked him, paying the man and exiting the car. She stared up at the golden numbers. Raising a shaking hand, the woman knocked. An older woman answered.

“Hello, I need to see Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes please.” Mrs. Hudson smiled at the polite young woman.

“Of course dear, head on up.” The (h/c) thanked her and climbed the stairs, her chest tightening with each step. She went to knock when the door swung open.

“Ah, Sherlock said someone was here.” He let her in, motioning for her to sit. “What can we do for you?” John glanced at his flatmate, noticing his disinterest at the woman.

“I need your help finding someone.” Sherlock turned his ear at her (country/area) accent.

“That’s it?” John was surprised. “Well when did you last see this person? What happened right before they disappeared?”

“Twelve years ago. He kicked me out before running back to Uni.” She stood, casting her (e/c) gaze on Sherlock. “I came over for a nice romantic surprise before he left, but when I woke up the next morning he cast me aside like some common whore.” John could see the tears in her eyes as she glared at Sherlock.

“He told me you broke it off.” Sherlock said coolly, standing to look at his long lost friend.

“And you believed him?” He crossed the room and pulled her to his chest in a hug.

“Never.”

_A ray of sunlight shone right in her eyes and she rolled over with a grunt. She expected to run into Mycroft’s back._

_“My?” (Y/n) assumed he had gotten up early and was downstairs eating breakfast so she got dressed. “My, you in here?” The kitchen was empty as well. She searched the house until she came across a note taped to the front door._

John watched the two embrace one another. Who was this woman that Sherlock so willingly showed affection for?

“John, stop staring.” They broke apart. “So you want to see him? I can’t imagine why.” A small smile bloomed on her face.

“Yes, we’d like to see him.” She reveled in the confusion on his face. “Dear uncle Sherlock, could you call him here one day?” John was glad he wasn’t drinking anything or else it’d would have been all over the two.

“Sherlock, an uncle?” The doctor laughed. (Y/n) finally took the time to introduce herself.

“(F/n) (L/n), Sherlock’s almost big sister. You must be John Watson, my daughter and I love your blog.” He shook her hand. “I grew up with this idiot, dated his brother, you know, things no normal girl should do.” John smiled, he liked this woman. She was funny, witty, and was probably the first person he’s seen the detective hug.

“I’m not an idiot!” Sherlock whined. (Y/n)’s phone went off.

“Sure you are, Sherly. How does tomorrow sound? I’ll be here at four, have tea ready.” She kissed his cheek before rushing out of the flat. The boys shook their head knowing that the elder Holmes was in a lot of trouble.

~

Sherlock paced the floor, anxious for her arrival.

“Please sit down, Sherlock, you’ll ruin the floor.” John glanced at the man currently sitting in his chair. He set the tray down, hot tea and four cups. “Who are you so nervous about me meeting? Did you finally get a girlfriend?” Mycroft noticed the extra cup.

“Something like that.” John hid his smile. The front door closed and the two flatmates glanced at each other. They heard her stop to warn Mrs. Hudson about any yelling that could occur. Sherlock went to the door to open it for the two. A girl ran in, stopping only to look at the three men before spotting Mycroft. Her eyes lit up.

“Daddy!” She ran over and hugged his neck. He struggled with what to do. He glanced over to see Sherlock talking with a (h/c) haired woman. His pulse increased.

“(Daughters name), be careful with him, he’s old.” Sherlock smirked. (Y/n) stepped forward, (D/n) letting go of her father and going to stand with her mom. She knelt down to her level.

“Why don’t you and John take uncle Sherlock down stairs and get some coffee?” The girl nodded, grabbing their hands and pulling them downstairs. She waited until they had gone to sit in Sherlock’s chair, staring into her ex’s eyes. Legs crossed, the woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a well-worn piece of paper. Mycroft’s eyes snapped to the paper.

“You kept it.” It came out a statement.

“I did.” She unfolded it, rubbing out the creases. He tried to keep the guilty feeling at bay as she skimmed the note he had left all those years ago.

“I did it to protect you, (Y/n).”

“What made you think this was the way to do it, Mycroft?!” She yelled. “Why couldn’t you have told me to my face? You know, before you got me pregnant.”

“Do you think it was easy to write that blasted thing? It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!” He shot back. (Y/n) let out a sigh, wiping stray (h/c) strands from her face.

“Look, I didn’t come here to pick a fight with you. No matter how much I wanted to hate you in the past, this is for (D/n).” She refolded the note and slid it back into her pocket. “You never kept tabs on me.”

“And how do you know that?” He challenged.

“Because if you had, you wouldn’t have been surprised to have an 11 year old call you daddy.” She supplied smugly. “Thank you.” The genuine thanks made the man confused.

“I had done enough damage.” Silence filled the room. After a few minutes and a shaky breath, Mycroft caved. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, My. Could you...could we try again?” He stood, going to stand in front of her, holding out a hand. (Y/n) stared at it before grabbing it and he pulled her out of Sherlock’s chair. He didn’t give her a verbal answer, only grabbing her face and bringing it to his.

“I told you he’d kiss her!” They heard a young voice boast. The two lovers glared at the doorway at their daughter and the two grown men.

“It was her idea.” Sherlock defended.


	6. Helpless, John

“Hello?”

“Hey Molly, it’s (Y/n).”

“Are you alright? You sound funny.”

“I-Are you able to get over here?”

“In this weather? All of the cabs and buses are shut down. What’s wrong?”

“...Nothing. I can handle it. Stay warm Molly, stay warm!”

~

“Have you seen (Y/n) recently? She’s usually up to visit regularly but she hasn’t been here in a few days.” The man looked at his friend in concern. Sherlock simply shrugged, too engrossed in his specimen to care. John’s phone buzzed.

_You should go check on (Y/n). She called me but I can’t get to her. -Molly_

“Sherlock, I’m going to her flat.” John put on his coat and rushed down the stairs. Why had she called Molly when he and Sherlock lived just down the street? He trudged through the snow until he reached her building. She had given him a key a while back so he could get in if he ever needed a break from the consulting detective. He entered her first floor flat, taking his coat off and laying it on the sofa back.

“Molly?” (Y/n)’s voice called from the bathroom. As he neared, John could hear soft cussing and pained grunts.

“It’s me.” He answered. Again she cursed.

“Did Molly send you?” There was a thud and a sharp breath. John jiggled the door handle, to find it locked.

“What happened? Let me in.”

“I can’t!” She yelled. The door clicked after a bit and John let himself in. On the floor was his (h/c) friend with her towel covering what she could of her body. “Please don’t look! I’m so fat.” Their eyes locked for a split second.

“Jesus, (Y/n)!” He knelt at her side.

“I was drying off and my back went out causing my legs to buckle.” (Y/n) sniffled, tears rolling down her face both from pain and embarrassment. The doctor grabbed her clothes from the shelf against the opposite wall.

“I’ll help you.” He knew she was going to protest so he quickly grabbed her underwear, lifting her feet and sliding them on so that she could pull them the rest of the way up. He looked away as she did so. Next, he handed her her shirt. She put her arms through, gripping his arm to keep herself upright while her free hand pulled it down.

“Shorts?” She asked when he suddenly stood.

“No, we don’t want to risk hurting you anymore.” He held out his hands for her to grab. (Y/n) struggled to stand, falling into John who just held her until she was steady.

“Don’t look at my legs.” She begged as he helped her limp to her bedroom. John laid her on her uninjured side, running back to the bathroom to find her liniment.

“Where are the problem areas?” He asked softly. She refused to answer. “Please, (Y/n). I can’t help you if you don’t show me.” Reluctantly, a (s/c) finger grazed her hip and lower back. Quietly, John massaged the gel into her sore spots.

“John, I’m sorry.” (Y/n) apologized. “I’m sorry you had to come over and do this.” He could tell she was crying again.

“It’s no problem, I swear. Don’t be sorry.” He laughed a bit. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be stuck in the flat with the consulting idiot.” She chuckled at him.

“I just hate feeling helpless.” She sighed, looking at the man. “Thank you.” John smiled, finishing up with her aches.

“How about I get a movie and we watch it?” He covered her up and left to get a dvd. “I grabbed (favourite movie), is that ok?” The (h/c) nodded so he put it in and cut on her tv, laying beside her. He gently stroked her hair, positioning himself so she couldn’t roll over but could still lean against him to alleviate the pressure on her hip. She soon fell asleep, mumbling in her dreams.

“-ohn, John.” The doctor stopped rubbing her head.

“I’m here, love.” He kissed the top of her hair. “I’ll always be here.”


	7. P.S., Mycroft

_My dearest Curlylock,_

_How have you been getting on? I haven’t heard from you in...well, I’ve never heard back from you. I wanted to write you and tell about my new job. I am writing as the new history teacher at T. S. Baker school. You’d probably say I shouldn’t be, but I am extremely nervous about it. But enough about me! I read your blog the other day, very impressive. I never knew that stuff about tobacco ash but it was very interesting._

_Hope to hear from you soon,_   
_(Y/n)_   
_P.s. How has My been?_

She stared up at the little cottage with butterflies in her stomach. Her eyes fluttered between the crinkled letter in her hands and the ivy covered house, willing herself to continue to the door. Her knuckles rapped on the wooden door.

“Yes? Who is it?” A man opened the door, eyeing the girl before him closely.

“Pardon me, I came because I was told you needed a babysitter?” She handed the letter to him, bouncing nervously on her toes. “My mother wrote to me and suggested I inquire about it. She used to work with your wife.” He skimmed over the paper before nodding and letting her in.

“My wife mentioned asking an old colleague about helping with our son.” He lead her into the kitchen, putting on the kettle. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/n) (L/n). Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Holmes.” He poured her a cup, setting it down on the kitchen table where they both took a seat.

“I warn you, our boys are...different. They’ll take time to accept you.” Mr. Holmes smiled softly. “If you want to accept the position, you’ll mostly be looking after our youngest, Sherlock. Mycroft is at that age where he can be alone.” (Y/n) nodded, cupping her hands around the warm drink.

“I’m sure I can handle him. I’d love to watch Sherlock.” She smiled brightly. The front door opened and closed, two pairs of footsteps entered the kitchen.

“Afternoon, boys.” Their father greeted. “This is Ms. (L/n), she will be looking after you.” Both boys glared at the (h/c) teen.

_To my little Timelord,_

_Merry Christmas Sherlock! I hope you are getting along well in Bakers St. and that you’re staying warm. I didn’t know if you ever took the time to buy one, but I got you this scarf. It reminded me of your beautiful blue eyes. Sorry it isn’t as cool as Tom’s. Please wear it when you go out, I don’t want you getting sick because of your pride._

_Have a wonderful holiday,_   
_(Y/n)_   
_P.s. Wish My a merry Christmas for me if you see him._

He still wouldn’t talk to her. Sherlock had barely uttered a word in the two months she had started watching him. Mycroft would hold conversations with her, though he usually went out of his way to make her feel stupid. (Y/n) tried so hard to connect with the seven and fourteen year olds, bringing her favourite Doctor Who videos, asking about their interests, playing them her collection of tapes, and even sharing her favourite books. Everything she did always turned into her watching the Fourth Doctor save the world alone, being lectured, being laughed at about her affinity for that androgynous spaceman, and being told how mediocre the story was. It was always Mycroft who ridiculed her, Sherlock merely ignored her. She was at her emotional breaking point, often locking herself away in the bathroom to hide her tears. The fiftteen year old had never felt like this.

“(Y/n)?” Sherlock’s voice came from the hallway. He sounded like he was upset. She immediately unlocked the bathroom door, opening it to see him looking up at her with tears in his eyes. His eyes widened as she knelt to his level.

“What is it Sherlock?” She smiled kindly, all the pain of their rebuffing gone, replaced by concern.

“Were you crying?” He asked bluntly. The (h/c) girl shook her head.

“Of course not.” He knew she was lying. “What’s the matter?”

“Am I stupid?” Sherlock asks, a tear spilling over onto his cheek. (Y/n) was surprised at his question.

“Why in the world would you ask that? Of course not!” She gently cupped his face, wiping his cheeks with her thumbs.

“Mycroft said I was stupid. He said I had the brain capacity of a goldfish.” He rubbed his eyes. The girl pulled him into a hug, stroking his black curls to comfort him.

“Sherlock, you are not stupid, and you most certainly are not a goldfish. You are so smart! You’re smarter than me at almost half my age. Don’t ever listen to Mycroft when he insults your intelligence.” He gave a small nod.

“Why were you crying?” He asked into her shoulder. She pulled away, tears once again on the verge of spilling from her (e/c) eyes.

“Why does your brother hate me so much?” She whispered to the child. He seemed to think about it, recalling how he’s seen Mycroft act around her. Now that he thought about it, Mycroft treated her like garbage compared to everyone else. Another memory popped into his mind. One day after (Y/n) had gone home, he had caught his brother watching her leave with a light blush on his face.

_Dear Sherly Stardust,_

_Some of my students were talking today about a blog they all followed. I looked it up while they were taking their test. You never told me you had a roommate! I’m glad you’ve finally opened up to someone. This John Watson sounds very lovely, I’d very much like to meet him, maybe one day a case will bring you to Oxford. By the way, have you been keeping up with the new series of Doctor Who? I like Matt Smith, but you know I’ll always be a Baker fan. Eccleston and Tennant were both wonderful though._

_Please stay safe,_   
_(Y/n)_   
_P.s. Give my regards to My._

“Why didn’t he just deny him?” Sherlock sat beside his babysitter, half paying attention to the show, half watching his brother closely on her other side.

“Because he can’t disobey a Guardian. It gets better once Romana regenerates, she’s less annoying.” He noticed how his brother stared at her, obviously admiring how her eyes lit up when she talked about her favourite things. After that day they confided in each other, Sherlock had talked to Mycroft about how he treated her.

**_“If you like her so much, you need to start acting like it.”_ **

**_“What are you talking about?”_ **

**_“(Y/n) thinks you hate her.”_ **

Sherlock was shocked that his brother actually started being nice, well, nice for Mycroft. It had been a year since he started being civil and it was working. The younger Holmes had gotten closer with this girl, he almost considered her the sister he never had. He had coaxed her into telling him her feelings for Mycroft, and by coax, it meant he deduced it and she had to come clean.

(Y/n) yawned, trying her best to stay awake. She hadn’t been sleeping very well as of late, concerned about her growing affection for Mycroft.

“(Y/n), you need to take a nap.” Mycroft commented.

“Nonsense, I’m fine.” She lied, hiding a yawn. “I can’t just leave you two unattended.” The older brother sighed.

“We are only a few months apart.” He pulled her to where she was leaning on his shoulder.

“What are you doing, My-!”

“Shut up and go to sleep.” Mycroft grumbled. She fought so hard to avoid it, but she fell into a welcome slumber. Sherlock smirked at his brother. “What?” He snapped.

“Your face is almost as red as hers.” The younger Holmes stood, taking out the video tape and leaving the two teenagers alone.

_To my precious little genius,_

_I got to meet John. And your landlady, Mrs. Hudson. They were as wonderful as I had imagined. Dr. Watson seemed surprised at my relationship to you and My. Seems you never talked about me, but that’s ok. Mrs. Hudson simply adored me, dotting on me like I was her own. All of your friends were lovely. That Molly woman is quite nice, as is Greg. I’m glad you finally found friends who care about. I didn’t see your parents there but I guess it is hitting them hard. But how dare they leave me alone with My? How dare you? It’s all my fault, isn’t it? I’m the reason he’s so closed off and cold._

_I miss you so much,_   
_(Y/n)_   
_P.s. I’ll take care of My, I promise._

“Aren’t your parents concerned about you being alone with me now?” (Y/n) avoided his gaze, still nervous about the whole ‘dating her boss's son’ thing.

“They trust me. And it does help that they love you just as much as they love Sherlock and myself.” Mycroft kissed her forehead.

“We’ve been together for about a year and a half now, how is Sherlock handling it?”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” The nine year old boy growled. “And I could care less who he dates.” The (h/c) smiled at him. She hugged him tightly, ruffling his hair.

“Don’t act like you don’t like me around more. I’m practically your sister!” She teased.

“Yeah, sister-in-law!” He retorted. Mycroft’s eyes widened at that. That comment bounced around his head. Could he see himself settling down with someone? If so, was she the one he wanted to spend his life with? He could almost see her dressed all in white, her holding their child, even the grey in her hair.

“-oft. Mycroft!” (Y/n) patted his cheek, a worried look on her face. “It’s not like you to wander off, are you alright?” He nodded. What was he thinking? He was only sixteen, almost seventeen, he shouldn’t be thinking of that kind of stuff.

_Dear Consulting Dunderhead,_

_Guess who moved back to London? I got laid off from T. S. Baker so My suggested I come live with him. I know in last month's letter I said things still looked rocky but I think I’ve finally gotten through the first few layers of ice. It’s really awkward living with him even with the progress. Do you think there’s any hope of me becoming your sister-in-law? Even I’m skeptical._

_Don’t give up on me,_   
_(Y/n)_   
_P.s. Could you haunt My for me? Maybe he’d listen to you._

She was so nervous. Mycroft held her so securely in his arms, ignorant to the news she had received.

“I have to tell you something My.” (Y/n) whispered, hoping he wouldn’t hear her over the movie. He lifted his head off of hers, looking in her (e/c) eyes.

“What is it?” She swallowed hard, already regretting it.

“You know that I’m done with school in two weeks, and I was looking at furthering my education…” She paused, unsure of how to continue.

“You decided which University you want to go to? That’s great!” He smiled, kissing her lips. (Y/n) pushed him away.

“I did decide, and I’m going back to the United States to live with my dad and attend (College name).” She didn’t miss the flash of pain on his face. “I’m going five thousand miles away, Mycroft.” He was silent for a minute.

“We can make it work, (Y/n). We can write, and talk on the phone, and you can come stay for the holidays.” He pleaded, knowing where she was going with this.

“Once I’m there I’m not coming back for at least four years.” She looked at him, tears in both their eyes. “Move on, find someone who’s actually smart and pretty, please Mycroft.”

“No, I won’t! I’m going to wait for you for as long as it takes.” He reached for her cheeks but she slapped his hands away.

“We’re done! I’m breaking up with you and I’m going to America. Get over me, be happy, live your life. Your eighteen, plenty of time to find someone else.” She stood up, wanting to leave that house as fast as she could.

“I don’t want anyone else, I love you!” He yelled at her as she ran out the door.

_To the Best Man,_

_I haven’t seen My in a few weeks, Sherlock. I’m so worried. He proposed to me right before going on some special mission out of the country. What was the point of asking me to marry him if he might not make it to the ceremony? Oh, as in the greeting, you are the best man. Of course that doesn’t matter since you’re gone and he might soon join you. Please watch over him wherever he is._

_Begging you,_   
_(Y/n)_   
_P.s. If My doesn’t come back, tell him I’m going to kill him._

Sherlock couldn’t help but give a small smile as he read the last two years of letters from his old babysitter. She had started sending him monthly letters when she moved back to America and he was amused that she continued to send them after his ‘death’. He guessed it was her way of journaling. Mrs. Hudson said that she hand delivered them once she got to London, sliding them into the mail slot on his door. He paused in his rereading of a few letters when he heard someone come up the stairs, stopping at the open door.

“Hello? Who’s here?” She stepped into the doorway. “John? Mrs. Huds-” Her gaze fell upon him, standing to face her.

“Don’t scream.” He winced, waiting for the shrill noise. She slowly made her way to him. Her hand touched his face, running down his cheek.

“You’re...alive.” The woman quickly latched him in a tight hug. He held her as she sobbed.

“It took longer than expected to dismantle Moriarty’s network.” He explained softly.

“He knew didn’t he? He probably planned it.” She grumbled once she had calmed down.

“Is there still going to be a wedding?” Sherlock joked. He let her go, dodging her slap.

“Though I am furious beyond words, I understand why you both did what you did.” (Y/n) kissed his cheek. “You’re still the best man.” He noticed the envelope in her other hand and snatched it away.

“Another letter?”

“This one’s the last.”

_To my little brother,_

_My came back home! He seems alright, no injuries that I could see. Maybe I’ll ask John to look him over. I’m glad that he’s home now because I have big new! I found out that I’m pregnant, can you believe it? You’re going to be an uncle and that idiot brother of yours is going to be a father. John tells me that he plans on proposing to Mary any day now. He want’s a summer wedding, hopefully I won’t ruin their big day by going into labor. That’d be a spectacle, don’t you think? I can’t wait to tell your parents that they’re finally going to be grandparents. Maybe I’ll name it after you if it’s a boy._

_Please watch over us,_   
_(Y/n)_   
_P.s. My doesn’t want it named after you, but I’ll bring him around._


	8. If It's Important, Sherlock

“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” John pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Sherlock looked up lazily from his reading.

“Are we going somewhere? I was unaware o-”

“No, I’ve told you all week that we were going downstairs for a holiday dinner. Get ready so we aren’t late.” The doctor huffed and sat in his chair, waiting on his flatmate to ready himself. How many times did he remind Sherlock about (Y/n) making dinner for them?

“John, I don’t recall ever meeting this new tenant of 221C, (Y/n) was it?” Finally Sherlock was dressed.

“You haven’t so try and keep your observations to yourself, don’t want to scare her away like the last one.” The two men walked downstairs, greeted by the wonderful scent of the dinner to come.

“In my defense, the last one proved to be a murderer, and he was a prosaic one at that.” The two laughed, John knocking on the door to 221C.

“Yes, come in!” They entered the small apartment to see their (height), (h/c), American neighbor standing in the kitchen with a large hot pan.

“Here (Y/n), let me help you.” Sherlock watched this woman he had never met as she worked to finish dinner. She held herself with confidence he rarely saw in someone of her... size. He could tell how much passion she poured into her cooking and how at ease she was laughing and picking with John. What did John say she does again? “Oh, by the way, this is the famous Sherlock Holmes.” The woman laughed at the sarcastic inflection on the word famous.

“We haven’t met yet. My name’s (Y/n), head chef at the Glasshouse.” He noticed her slight hesitation when she finally faced him, hand outstretched for him to shake. Her heartbeat was slightly elevated when he took her hand, feeling her wrist. Their eyes stayed locked for the slightest moment, unnoticeable to John.

“Oh, hello boys! Smells wonderful, (Y/n).” Mrs. Hudson handed (Y/n) a bottle of Riesling.

“Thank you so much!” It was like a switch had flipped, all nervousness she had shown towards him dissolved into natural assurance in her posture and a lightness in her eyes. Sherlock stayed relatively quiet the whole evening and took in every detail and cataloging it in the back of his mind. She was (dominant hand)-handed, she had the slightest blepharospasm in her left eye, and she seemed at ease conversing with the two others at the table. (Y/n) tried to include him in the conversation and had he been anyone else he’d have missed the change in her voice whenever she spoke directly to him.

After dinner, John and Mrs. Hudson returned to their flats after thanking (Y/n) for the wonderful meal. (Y/n) sighed to herself as she started to put away the food.

“God, (Y/n).” She leaned on the kitchen sink, running dishwater. “What is wrong with you? London’s smartest man and you’re acting like a fox at a hound show. He definitely could tell-”

“I could.” The plate in her hand shattered on the floor. (Y/n) bent down instantly to clean up the mess she had made.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”

“You should be more aware of your surroundings.” The two picked up the shards of porcelain in silence until Sherlock broke it. “Why are you only nervous around me?” The chef sat back on her knees, picking at a small cut on her hand from the plate.

“You’re asking why I’m nervous around you? You’re the Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, genius, and known douche bag.”

“I’m sure you deal with worse than me on a daily basis in your field of work. I gave no other reason for you to be apprehensive so why are you afraid of me?”

“Look at you.” (Y/n) gestured at all of him. “You’re absolutely-” Someone knocked loudly on the door before letting themselves in.

“Sorry to barge in, (Y/n), but Lestrade just rang and Sherlock we need to go.” John looked frantic.

“Busy.”

“What? Sherlock there’s been a kidnapping.”

“I’m busy, John! Ms. (L/n) and I are currently in the middle of-” A (s/c) hand touched his shoulder ever so gently.

“Go, and if it’s still important to you when you get back,” She paused, unsure of what she was getting herself into with this man who scared her so. “Then I’ll be here.” The boys left hurriedly to solve the case. (Y/n) sat on the kitchen floor for a few minutes after they had gone, thinking over everything. She finished cleaning up once she had gotten over the events of the night and settled down on the couch with a cup of tea and her laptop.

~

A loud bang jolted the (h/c) woman awake. She looked around for the source to find her laptop on the floor.

“Must have fallen.” With a stretch, (Y/n) picked up the computer and sat it on the coffee table, checking the time. “Jeez it’s four in the morning.” She ran her hands down her face. _I guess it wasn’t too important,_ the lid snapped shut, her laptop signalling its sleep mode. Disheartened, (Y/n) prepared to go to bed. Just as she went to cut the living room light out a noise made her stop.

“Who could that be at this hour?” She didn’t want to get her hopes up like countless times before, but who else could be knocking on her door so early in the morning? “Sherlock?” There was doubt and hesitation in her voice.

“Who else would it be?” The door flew open. “You said if it was still important to me to come see you when I got back so here I am.”

“But why?”

“You’re a curious case. Now tell me why you’re so nervous around me.”

“Because you’re amazing and gorgeous and I always choose the ones I can’t have.”

“Choose?”

“You really are thick like John says.” (Y/n) gathered all her confidence at once and placed a kiss on Sherlock’s cheek.

“Wha-”

“I’ll explain in the morning,” Sherlock could only stare as she shut the door in his face, but through the door he heard her yawn. “If it’s still important.”


	9. Matching Costumes, Mycroft

“Mycroft keep an eye out for the cab!” (Y/n) ran her finger under her eye one last time to complete her look. John had invited Mycroft and herself over for a small Halloween get together at his and Mary’s place.

“I don’t see why I have to go. He isn’t my friend, he is simply my brothers play thing.” Mycroft grumbled from the other side of the bathroom door.

“You’re right.” She opened the door in a flourish. “He isn’t our friend, he’s our family.” She dashed to the walk in closet and locked herself inside.

“Why can’t I see your silly little costume? Is it one of those dreadful ‘sexy’ versions of normal things?” He rolled his eyes but deep down wouldn’t complain if it was.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She shuffled through the racks to find her button up shirt and the jacket she had ‘borrowed’ from its owner. She tied on a scarf and reached for the last piece of her outfit on top of the shelf.

“You said that it would match with me but I’m not dressing up.” He straightened his tie in the mirror. There was a clutter in the closet and a few curses muttered. “Are you okay?” Mycroft jerked open the door and moved the boxes that had fallen off of his girlfriend. Underneath their summer clothes was a feminine version of his brother. He dropped his armload and let out a deep laugh.

“Stop laughing at me.” She scoffed in her best Sherlock voice causing him to laugh harder. Seeing him laugh caused her own melodic giggle to slip past her lips. She hadn’t experienced his mirth like this in weeks with all the pressing stress on his shoulders and she wished she could bottle it up and save it for a rainy day. A loud honk from outside their window and the two wiped the tears from their eyes. “Come brother. The game is on!” She pulled on her deerstalker and led her lover out to the car, both laughing the whole way.

Mycroft couldn’t help but take in (Y/n)’s appearance. Her outfit consisted of the coat she had stolen from his brother who knows how long ago, a blue button up shirt, and a grey scarf. Her face was covered in makeup to make her look more masculine and hollowed her cheeks like his little brothers which she had mimicked surprisingly well. Her (h/c) hair had been curled as tightly as she could manage and covered with one of those stupid caps the press associated with Sherlock.

“He’s not going to be amused.” He predicted.

“Ah but everyone else will be. We have the perfect couples costume without you changing a bit.”

“Well that was considerate of you to take into account my unwillingness to participate in this trivial holiday.” (Y/n) leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“What kind of girlfriend would I be if I forced you into something you hate?”

“Please do not kiss me while you are dressed like that.” They both laughed again. The cab stopped outside of John and Mary’s flat and Mycroft paid the driver, taking (Y/n)’s arm and making their way to the door. She knocked and then put on her best serious, emotionless face.

“Why hello Mycroft,” Mary opened the door and smiled at the two. She looked from him to (Y/n) and just stared. “Oh my god.” The two women burst out in fits of laughter. They could hear John questioning what was going on.

“Nothing John, I’ll be there in a minute!” (Y/n) called after gathering herself. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” She barged in and stopped in the doorway of the living room, startling her friends.

“(Y/n), wha-” She cut John off, clearing her voice and dropping into a lower octave.

“What are you idiots doing milling about? George give me all you have on the case. John tell me what you can deduce.” Everyone in the room doubled over. “What? What is so funny?”

“Sherlock my name is Greg.” Greg corrected wiping his eyes.

“No it’s not, I should know because I know everything, contrary to what my idiot brother thinks.” She was trying hard not to break character. The subject of their banter walked in from the kitchen.

“Why are you all laughing?” Sherlock glanced up to see his brother had arrived with (Y/n)...sort of. “Very clever.” He said flatly.

“I know it’s clever, I came up with it.” She shot back.

“I do not sound like that!” Even his brother was smiling at the scene. “Oh, don’t encourage her.” (Y/n) couldn’t hold in her laughter anymore and threw her hat at him with a giggle. Everyone just cackled harder at Sherlock’s face.

“I’m sorry Sherly, it was just too good to pass up.” (Y/n) joined Mycroft on the couch after the excitement died down. She finally got to look over her friends and their costumes. John and Mary were dressed in a cute Mad Hatter and Alice couples costume, Greg was dressed in a cheap pharaoh outfit, and Molly and Tom sported a Batman and Robin costume. “You all look rather dashing. Sherlock what did you dress like?”

“Same as Mycroft.”

“What, arrogant, egotistical, know-it-alls?” Sherlock just huffed and turned from his brothers girlfriend. He couldn’t believe that Mycroft could date, let alone date a woman like her. (Y/n) was audacious, in the best way, but her spirit really set her apart from the other women that threw themselves at his brother. She cared nothing about his government position or the check that came with it, she just liked Mycroft for him, god only knows why. “Though I guess that applies to my costume as well, though I would hope I look much cuter than Sherlock does.”

“I don’t know of anyone who would refer to him as cute, my dear.” It was odd to hear such words of endearment from Mycroft, odd to everyone in the room save for (Y/n) who blushed.

“I have to agree with you there.” John smiled at the older Holmes.

The party went on with plenty of laughter and fun. Occasionally the conversation lulled and was replaced with eating. Eventually Greg and Molly left, leaving only the Watson’s, the Holmes, and (Y/n). Sherlock noticed the way his brother looked at (Y/n) and couldn’t help but give the faintest smile when he saw their hands intertwined. He was glad that Mycroft could find someone to soften his heart, even in the slightest.

“I’ve gotta step out for a smoke, My when I get back we should really get going.” (Y/n) kissed his forehead and went outside.

“Do I need to take her cigarettes too?” John joked.

“She needs them after all she goes through to keep me clean.”

“Mycroft, are you going to keep (Y/n) around? She’s really doing you good.” Mary resettled on the couch with a cup of tea.

“I don’t know what you mean. I am the same person I was before meeting her.” Everyone scoffed and rolled their eyes at his blatant attempt to lie about his feelings.

“Come now, everyone knows you are infatuated with her.” Sherlock smirked.

“How I feel about her is of no concern to any of you. She knows I lo-she knows my feelings for her.” (Y/n) stood in the hallway and smiled at his stammered admission of love.

“Alright My, time to get home. You have an early day tomorrow.” She interrupted before anyone could make Mycroft feel anymore embarrassed. She pulled him up off the couch and into her arms.

“Ugh.” Sherlock voiced his disgust at their embrace.

“Goodbye to you too.” (Y/n) ruffled his curls. “We’ll have to top this year's costume next year.” She kissed his cheek and went to hug Mary and John.

“I’ll see you next week for lunch.” Mary reminded her and pulled her in tight.

“(Y/n) we need to be going now.” Mycroft slid on his coat and held open hers for her to put on. Goodbyes finished, they walked out into the autumn air. Kids were excitedly running around, candy bags swinging wildly and parents tiredly trying to keep up. (Y/n) smiled at the sight, pulling Mycroft closer and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Let’s walk home, darling.”

“Alright, dear.” He didn’t argue, knowing how much she loved this time of year. He stuck his free hand in his pocket and ran his thumb over the small box that had resided there for the past three months. Lost in thought, he was surprised when she stopped and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I know you don’t want to kiss your little brother but I’m going to do it anyways.” Without hesitation she met his lips. “You don’t have to tell anyone how you feel. I know and that’s all that’s important. As long as you know how I feel.” Mycroft smiled down at the woman in his arms.

“Happy Halloween, love.”

“Is that my treat?” (Y/n) winked at him.

“I suppose so, but when do I get mine?” She laughed and pulled away, skipping down the sidewalk. Mycroft watched after her, confused.

“Are you coming to get your treat or not?” (Y/n) called over her shoulder. He blinked. “I won’t wait all night, My.” She said lowly.

“Of course.” He raced after her. “As long as you change first.”


	10. Second Shift, Sherlock

“She lost her Oyster card.”

“What?”

“She took a cab home. Normally she takes the tube and walks from the station but today she used a cab, therefore she lost her Oyster card. That explains her frantic pocket digging when she left earlier.”

“Who on Earth are you talking about?”

“The woman who lives in the flat across the street.” Sherlock rolled his eyes like it was obvious.

“And you have been watching her why?” John looked up tiredly from his laptop, raising a brow at the man standing at the window.

“It’s kind of a hobby. I noticed her a few weeks ago and now I’ve grown fascinated with her.”

“A bit stalkerish, Sherlock.”

“Nonsense.” He fixed his gaze on her, noticing the way she held her hand on her shoulder. “Her shoulder has gotten worse, she should get it checked out.”

“Maybe you should go introduce yourself and suggest it in person instead of stalking her.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, John just didn’t get it. He watched as she struggled with the jammy lock on the door. She dropped her lunch bag and used both hands to jiggle the door handle before it finally opened. The woman pocketed her keys, picked up her bag, and stepped into the doorway. Sherlock was about to turn away when he caught her small wave in his direction before her door shut.

“She waved at me.” He said taken aback.

“That’s an odd reaction to have when you notice someone watching you. Especially at…” John looked at the time and shook his head. “At 12:02 in the morning. Jesus, what is she doing out so late?”

“She works second shift.” Sherlock informed. John sighed, of course, how could he be so stupid, he thought sarcastically.

“What else do you know about her?”

“She works at some sort of warehouse, doing something repetitive given that her back and left shoulder are constantly bothering her and the fact she wears arm sleeves to protect her forearm from all the cardboard cuts. She’s off on thursdays and saturdays, she takes the tube to work, she had a short fling with the new postman, and she has a cat.” John would be lying if he said he wasn’t even the slightest bit impressed that he knew that much about her, even if he _was_ Sherlock Holmes. Regardless, the doctor just shook his head and went to bed.

(Y/n) groaned as she walked down the sidewalk, hand massaging her shoulder. She’d eventually get it looked at when she had a day off, but until then it was a regiment of muscle relaxers and heat pads.

Black earbuds hung around her neck, her bluetooth headset dying halfway through her shift that night. The lack of music made her hyper aware of the noises around her and spiked her anxiety of walking alone so late at night. As she rounded the corner onto Baker Street she heard footsteps fall in behind her. She slowly reached into her large lunch bag, hand gripping something tight. The footsteps quickly gained on her and she had the sneaking suspicion that the person was reaching out for her. In a flash, she smacked the person with the object in her hand, turning to inspect her handy work.

“Bloody hell!” The gruff voice groaned. A curly mop of black hair, blue scarf, long black coat, uh-oh.

“I’m sorry, you snuck up on me and my adrenaline was up and-wait, why were you following me, Sherlock Holmes?” She looked up at her across the street neighbor. He didn’t question how she knew who he was, she had clearly seen his name in the news or online. His gaze dropped to the item in her hand, the thing she had hit him with.

“What is that?” He pointed. Her face went red, well, redder than it already was. She hid the thing behind her back.

“Nothing. You didn’t answer my question.”

“Nor you mine.” The two stared the other down for a brief minute. “I wasn’t following you, I was just getting back from an important case. Now what was it you hit me with?” Slowly she produced the long pink object, it appeared to be a rubber-his eyes widened.

“Look, I can explain!”

“You hit me with a sex toy?” His face flushed slightly.

“I got it at work for cheap. You can’t get arrested for carrying around an eighteen inch dildo…” His blush darkened a bit at her use of the word. She had a point he supposed, though.

“Well since we are both here, allow me to walk you to your flat.” Sherlock offered indifferently. It would be chance to figure her out a little more. (Y/n) nodded, depositing her defense weapon back into her bag and walking beside the detective. “When did you first notice?”

“What, you staring at me when I came home? One night you were arguing with Dr. Watson about me and it just so happens that you had the window open. You kept bringing up my shoulder.”

“You still haven’t gotten it looked at.” He stated matter-of-factly. The (h/c) woman just rolled her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. “Where is it you work at?”

“I work in the warehouse for Forbidden Fantasy adult stores. I pack orders.” She flashed him her badge that was attached to her jean pocket. So her name was (Y/n) (L/n).

“Explains a lot.”

“I’m sure it does.” (Y/n) slowed as they neared her flat. “Anyways, sorry for hitting you with a dildo. And thanks for walking me home, and for keeping an eye on me from your window, even if it is a tad creepy.” She kissed his cheek before jumping up the few steps to her door.

“Anytime.” He was shocked at her kiss.

“And if you ever get bored late at night, I’m always up. Not, like, in a weird way, I meant it like if you needed someone to talk to or...anyways, goodnight.” (Y/n) fussed with her lock and stepped into her flat, sending him one last small wave before the door shut. Sherlock lingered in front of her stoop for a minute. His eyes went to the window of his own flat, where John was watching him. John sent him a small thumbs up. The detective rolled his eyes and made his way across the street, sparing one more glance at (Y/n)’s home.

“What an odd woman.” He entered his own flat, not noticing the (e/c) gaze from his new acquaintance’s window.


	11. Yes or No, Sherlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Implied Sexual Assault (Not described, just hinted at)

Her laughter ripped through the apartment, irritating the detective.

“He said what?”

“He told Anderson ‘I’m quite busy doing your job right now, can I ignore you later?’! I thought Lestrade was going to fall over.” John poured his guest another cup of tea.

“Well Anderson is an absolute twat. He told me once that he wanted to get to know me better and then put his hand on my back. I bruised my hand punching him.” Sherlock couldn’t help but smile despite his annoyed attitude towards (Y/n). She had been over to their flat almost everyday that week and it was getting on Sherlock’s nerves. It’s not that he didn’t like her, in fact she was one of his only friends, but something John had told him was weighing on his mind. “So what are you boys thinking for dinner? My treat.”

“You know that teriyaki chicken you make? I’ve been craving it for weeks.”

“Uhg can’t I just order takeout? Do you even have the stuff to make it?” (Y/n) raised an eyebrow at the request.

“I’ll go buy the ingredients. Please? I’m sure it’s been weeks since Sherlock has eaten anything other than a handful of crisps and a cup of cold tea.” The two glanced at the genius and (Y/n) nodded with a sigh.

“Fine, but you give me the receipt. It isn’t my treat if you pay for it.” John waved her off, grabbing his jacket and heading out. (Y/n) stretched out on the couch, watching Sherlock fiddle with his bunsen burner.

“Why are you staring at me?” He glanced up at her upon feeling her gaze. Johns words played in his head over and over again, giving him his answer. He shook the thoughts away.

“Because I can. Your big brother can’t throw me in jail for irritating you, can he?”

“He’d probably give you a damehood.” She let out another melodic giggle. The noise sent an unknown warmth in Sherlock’s chest.

“You know you’re quite the comedian when you want to be.” (Y/n) crossed the room and leaned herself on the counter in front of him. “You know, all you have to do is say so and I’ll stop.” He looked up and locked eyes with her, noticing the slightest hint of sadness.

“I do not know what you’re talki-”

“Please Sherlock, I’m not that stupid. I know that John probably told that I liked you. And yeah, it’s true I guess.” She took a deep breath, it was hard to actually admit that she liked anyone, let alone the infamous consulting detective. “All you have to say is yes or no, though obviously it’ll be no, and I’ll let it go. Well, I won’t be able to right away since that’s not how normal human emotions work, but we can put this all behind us.”

Sherlock wasn’t sure what to say. This was different than Molly just subtly trying to express her affections. No, this was a no nonsense confession and he for once didn’t want to lose her as a friend.

“Look, (Y/n)-”

“Just yes or no. I know you’re not one for expression and that’s okay. Just please don’t try to let me down easy, it’s not the Sherlock way.” He couldn’t look away from her. It was refreshing in a way that someone finally just said what they wanted instead of hinting around at it.

“No.” (Y/n) let out a small breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Can I ask why at least?”

“Caring is not an advantage. Friendship is as close as I can risk with you and John.” Sherlock was waiting to see the hurt cross her face but it never came. She looked almost understanding which threw him off.

“Thank you then, for allowing me that close.” She offered him a small smile. “What do you say we find a new case after dinner? Just you and me, give John a break, y’know?”

“Alright.”

The two fell back into a comfortable silence. Sherlock was lost in thought wondering why other people couldn’t be as straight forward as (Y/n), and (Y/n) was trying to figure out how to keep things from getting awkward between them. John finally returned with the groceries and (Y/n) set to making dinner, John none the wiser to what had happened during his absence.

After dinner, as promised, Sherlock and (Y/n) looked through some case files while John cleaned up the dishes. They settled on a double homicide after (Y/n) pointed out that the murderer was clearly inspired by a recent horror film. It seemed to catch both their interests so they set to work to solve it.

~

Three months had passed since (Y/n) confessed to Sherlock and she kept her word. She visited the flat much less to give him space, but would be at his side if he needed a second opinion. John had noticed that something had changed between his two friends but when he brought it up, Sherlock simply said it was none of his concern.

(Y/n)’s visits had slowed to once or twice every couple of weeks but she couldn’t say no to a halloween party that John was throwing for all of their friends. Dressed in a Captain America/Peggy Carter couples costume, (Y/n) and her plus one made their way up the stairs and entered the living room.

“(Y/n)! You look great. And who might this be?” John was dressed like a mad scientist.

“Oh this is Liam. Cute costume by the way.” He led them to the others who were having a heated conversation over what Sherlock should have worn. The poor sociopath looked bored with their suggestions, glancing at (Y/n) and her date when they entered the conversation.

“He should just go as a donkey since he’s an arse.” Greg, dressed as an old school policeman suggested. Everyone chuckled.

“Perhaps he should put on a diaper since he enjoys acting like a child.” Mrs. Hudson threw in.

“I think I have the best idea.” (Y/n) smirked. “It’s easy to suggest costumes that fit his annoying personality, but you want something he would enjoy. He enjoys goading his brother so why not put on a suit and slick his hair back and then send a photo to Mycroft?” Everyone lost it at the image in their heads. Sherlock even let out a small laugh at the brilliant idea, if only he had the right suit. (Y/n) excused herself to get drinks for Liam and herself.

“There goes your damehood.” Sherlock propped himself on the sink. She stuck her tongue out at him, pouring two glasses of wine. “Your date is a bore.”

“He hasn’t even spoken to you yet, how do you know?” Sherlock just raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re right. But he’s not here because he’s Prince Charming.”

“Why would you waste your time on him then?”

“Jealous?” A devious smile settled on her lips. “Because the sex is just that good.” She sent him a wink and left the kitchen, letting out a curt laugh at his stunned face. She made her way back to the group, handing Liam his drink and he wrapped an arm around her waist. After some drinks, someone started charades. Sherlock was sulking in the corner, observing the idiotic display with a scowl on his face.

“Are you okay?” John checked on him.

“How dare she lower herself like that?” He glared at (Y/n) and her plus one.

“What do you mean? (Y/n)?” John settled in beside his flatmate, knowing he was going to be there a while.

“She’s lying to that airhead she’s with, using him for her own pleasure. She used to be so honest.” John’s eyes widened. Was Sherlock mad at (Y/n) because she had a date? He could tell he was a little past inebriated.

“She’s got needs too.”

“But she shouldn’t be using sex as means of getting over me. It’s repulsive.”

“When did you guys tal-you know what, I don’t need to know. If it bothers you then you should tell her yourself.”

“I’m not bothered. (Y/n) can shag who she wants.” The last part came out louder than he had intended, startling everyone.

“Excuse me?” (Y/n) set her drink on the coffee table.

“(Y/n) wait, he’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.” John stood, holding out a hand to stop her from stepping towards the man.

“I know perfectly well what I’m saying.” Sherlock stood as well, the slightest slur in his words. “And as John said I should say it to your face.”

“Then say it.” Everyone gave the two space, afraid to interfere for fear of loss of limb.

“Whoring yourself out to other men because I said no is not very becoming, (Y/n).” She lunged at him, John stepping in front of her and holding her back with all his strength. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she struggled to get at the genius, glaring daggers at him.

“How fucking dare you! You self centered, unfeeling piece of shit! You have no right to speak to me that way.” She screamed at him. “How I ever saw myself with a bastard like you is beyond my comprehension. I’m glad you said no, you don’t deserve me, Sherlock Holmes. You don’t deserve anyone to make you happy.”

“You disgust me.” John lost his grip on her and she closed the distance between her and Sherlock. (Y/n) punched him with all her might, breaking his nose with ease. Greg and Molly’s date went to pull her off but she shook them off.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” She gathered her jacket and phone and stormed to the door, turning back to glance over Sherlock one more time before running out and down to the street. Everyone left in the room glanced around at each other, unsure of what to do or say.

In the days to come, Sherlock tried to text several times but she only answered once, ‘ _I don’t ever want to see or speak to you again.’_. John and Mrs. Hudson were also angry with him, appalled that he could be so cruel to their close friend. It seemed like everything was falling apart around him and it bothered him.

For months Sherlock threw himself into every case Lestrade could scrounge up. John would give him updates on (Y/n) after their scarce lunches or coffee meet ups. It didn’t look like she would forgive him anytime soon, even his brother made an effort to point out the swelling of his nose when he visited with information.

It was a slow week with no new cases, or at least interesting ones. John was sitting in his chair, ignoring the tv as he played on his phone. Sherlock laid on the couch, hands steepled in thought. His phone buzzed.

“John, hand me my phone.” The doctor huffed, but tossed him the device without fail.

‘ _Body found on the outskirts of Croyden.’_

“New case?” John asked half interested.

“Possibly, homeless network is looking into it.” Another text came in just at that time.

‘ _Some broad found gutted like a fish.’_

“Why wouldn’t Lestrade call me about this?” He dialed up the officer. “Tell me what you have so far on the Croyden murder.” He slid his coat on, gesturing for John to do the same.

“Sherlock I- we have this under control.” Greg sounded on the other end.

“Nonsense, when have you ever had things ‘under control’?” The two made their way to the street curb, hailing a cab.

“Please, you don’t need to come down here.”

“We’ll see you in a few.” Sherlock hung up, glancing out the window. John’s phone went off.

“Greg?”

“John, listen, do not come down here. Please, keep Sherlock away from this one.” Greg hung up.

“Why doesn’t he want you there?” John looked to his flatmate who only shrugged.

They pulled up outside of the police tape and the consulting detective jumped out with a new found energy, happy to see a new and interesting murder.

“Keep him out of here!” He heard someone bark and he was soon surrounded by policeman. Anderson walked by but his normally cocky demeanor was gone, replaced with a pale face and what Sherlock could only describe as mourning.

“What is the problem here?” John ran over and confronted the officers holding back his friend.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade gave strict orders to keep you two away from the body.” One man explained. John and Sherlock glanced at each other before breaking away from their restrainers and barging under the yellow tape.

“What is going on that you don’t want me to see?” Sherlock demanded before his eyes landed on the body. The woman was lying on her side facing away from him, clothes torn and messy, hair the same way. There was a large pool of blood around her midsection, confirming what his homeless connection had told him. Putting on some gloves, he made to walk around to assess the damage but was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t, Sherlock.” Greg pleaded one last time. Of course Sherlock ignored him. He slowly circled to the woman’s front, noting the large stomach wound similar to that of badly simulated bushido death. There were bruises and scratch marks along her arms and legs, a clear sign of struggle and possibly forced sexual actions. He noticed the shirt she wore, (Y/n) had a shirt like that. His eyes traveled up to her head, brushing the hair from her face.

“Sherlock? What is it?” John noticed the color leave his face and the slight shaking of his hand as he finished brushing back the hair.

“It’s (Y/n).” He whispered, feeling like someone had winded him. John covered his mouth, sinking to his knees. Sherlock’s gloved fingers caressed her cheek, staring into those lifeless (e/c) eyes.

“We found her phone in her hand, she was mid-text. It looks like she was trying to describe who did it.” Greg handed the device to John.

“It was to you, Sherlock.” He choked out.

_‘Aprox 6 ft red hair beard grn ey im srr’_

“She was bleeding out, and she had the idea to leave us a description.” Sherlock still had her face in his hand, not quite sure how to handle the fact that (Y/n) was dead. After all the late night cases, home cooked meals, her confession, and that goddamn fight... he wished he could take back that night. If he hadn’t of snapped at her she might still be alive. She would have been by his side as it was someone else's corpse he inspected.

“I’m so sorry, Sherlock.” Greg shook his head, still sickened by the sight of his friend lying dead in a gutter. John forced himself to Sherlock’s side, pulling his hand from their friend.

“We’re going to catch the bastard that did this.”

~

The image of (Y/n)’s desecrated body never left Sherlock’s mind. It pushed him forward in everything he did. It was only a matter of days before the man responsible was found. Upon arrest, they found evidence that he had already started to target other women.

“You saved lives, (Y/n). Three women can go about their ordinary lives because of you. You were on the brink of death, bleeding out, but your mind, your beautiful, wonderful mind, had one last spark of genius to describe the man who ended your life. That action showed that you never once thought of yourself first. You thought of future victims and for some reason…” The room was silent as Sherlock spoke. Everyone listened intently as he took a minute to gather his words. “For some reason you thought of me. The last time we spoke, I ruined our friendship and you used your last breath to apologize. And that fact alone is all anyone needs to know about what kind of person you were, and if I could go back to that night you made dinner for John and myself, I’d have said yes.”


	12. Dangerous Grieving, Sherlock

It took everything in her not to break their arms. They just kept coming up to her and laying a supposedly comforting hand on her shoulder, telling her how sorry they were and how she’d get over it with time. How could they be so stupid? Did ordinary people think it was that easy to get over the suicide, no, murder of your childhood friend? The man you loved for over twenty years lying on the pavement in a puddle of blood and the world convinced he was a guilty man. No. She wouldn’t just get over it. And she wouldn’t break any bones today-well, maybe just this one.

“(Y/n), I’m sorry-” Donovan couldn’t even brush a finger against her jacket before the grieving woman had it in her grasp. The police woman gasped in pain, struggling to get her wrist back. 

“Do. Not. Touch. Me.” (Y/n) growled lowly, tightening her grip on Sally’s arm. Greg and John rushed to help when they heard the pained cries. The two men flanked her, John carefully grabbing the hand that held Donovan. He tried to reason with her, tell her this wasn’t Donovan’s fault (even if he didn’t wholeheartedly agree). Greg tried to explain that he could have her arrested for assaulting an officer to which (Y/n) laughed bitterly. “How dare she show her face at his funeral? How can you two just allow her here?” There were tears pouring down her face, not that she felt them. A loud crack rang out, followed by Donovan screaming. John and Greg were out of ideas short of just knocking her out when they were pushed aside.

“Now, (Y/n).” Mycroft whispered something into her ear. While he spoke to her, he reached out and detached her from her prey. The fire in her (e/c) eyes slowly died out, glazing over instead. Her body seemed to melt into Mycroft’s as he turned her around and pulled her into his arms.

“She killed him, My. It’s her fault Sherlock’s dead.” (Y/n)’s voice was emotionless and flat. 

“Of course it is, dear. Let me take you home.” Mycroft shot a look to John that he should meet them back at the flat. “Let’s go, (Y/n).” Mrs. Hudson saw (Y/n) being led by Mycroft and knew she’d be needed as well. Sherlock’s death was hard on everyone but it seemed to be excruciatingly hard on the one woman he seemed close to. The older Holmes couldn’t wait to see her reaction when his little brother finally came home. He’d make a note to have an ambulance on standby on that fateful day. 

“My?” He looked over at her, jacket pulled tight around her even with the heat in the car on full blast. Her breath fogged up the window. “I went too far, didn’t I? They’re going to arrest me again.” 

“I won’t let that happen. Though I do recommend refraining from dislocating anymore wrists.” He was reminded of when they were kids, she had broken a kids nose at their school for insulting Sherlock but his parents talked the headmistress down to a suspension. (Y/n) had always had a violent side. “You can come live with me, if you’d like.” He could tell her, save himself a few stitches when the time came, if only he hadn’t sworn not to. 

“I’d be better off in prison.” Mycroft knew she was joking even with the seriousness in her tone. “I know you wouldn’t tell me if he was alive. He wouldn’t let you, stupid chivalery or whatever. But if he is alive and you can’t tell me because he said so, you best have a doctor on call for when he gets back.” (Y/n) smiled a real smile, for the first time in weeks. She reached over and squeezed his hand warmly. He had to restrain from flinching away at her threat.

“Of course.” Mycroft knew his sister-in-law would do worse than break a wrist this time.


	13. Romantic Gesture, Mycroft

“Are you sure you aren’t going?”

“Absolutely positive.” Mycroft paused his treadmill and looked at the woman standing in the doorway fixing her earrings. (Y/n) was stunning in her lavender bridesmaid dress. It was longer in the back and showed off those legs he just loved-

“I’m sure that John and Mary will be devastated.” She walked over and kissed his sweaty cheek. “I’ll miss dancing with you.” She said quite seriously. 

“Weddings are-”

“Yes yes, a waste of time upholding an outdated tradition built on the idea of women as property. I’m well aware of your views on marriage.” (Y/n) hated having this discussion. “I’ll see you later, Mycroft.” He watched her leave, knowing when she used his full name that she was angry with him.

The wedding was absolutely stunning. (Y/n) had been so surprised when Mary had asked her to be a bridesmaid but she couldn’t have been happier standing up there when the two love birds said their vows. Well, maybe she could be if her own partner was here with her. Mycroft never went with her to any events unless it was a government party in which he always drug her along. Not that they weren’t fun but it’d be nice if he would do stuff for her as well. Now here she was sitting between Molly Hooper and her boyfriend and Greg Lestrade. 

“Why didn’t you want to sit with the rest of the wedding party?” Greg was already three beers in as the desserts were delivered. 

“I don’t really know any of them. I wanted to sit with my friends.” (Y/n) poked at the little cream puffs. Molly could tell she was feeling down.

“I’m sorry Mycroft couldn’t make it.” She laid a hand on her shoulder.

“He’s missing out, dear.” Mrs. Hudson tried to add from across the table. Luckily before anyone else could give their two cents, Sherlock walked over and offered what could only be described as a sympathetic look. She knew he’d hold this over his brothers head for a long while. 

“I did try calling him.” He said when they walked away from the table. 

“Still bloody running?” She tried not to sound bitter but it couldn’t be helped. “I do appreciate the gesture, Sherlock. I’ll be alright.” 

“If you’d like,” He hesitated, trying to formulate the right words. “You could share a dance with...me. Once that's all started, of course.” (Y/n) couldn’t help but chuckle at his awkwardness. She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.

“I wouldn’t want to steal you away from the maid of honor.” She grinned at his barely noticeable blush. “Of course I’ll dance with you, silly. Now don’t you have a speech to give?” She noticed everyone taking their seats at the head table.

“My brother is a fool.” Sherlock kissed her forehead before heading to his spot beside John. It wasn’t meant to make her feel so sad, his kind gesture and snide remark about Mycroft, but it just settled in her that way.

“Are you alright?” Tom reached across and squeezed her hand when she sat down. (Y/n) blinked away the swelling tears in her eyes and offered a small smile to him. 

Sherlock had moved the gathered crowd with his speech, not a single dry eye in the room save for his own. Of course it wouldn’t have been a wedding in which John and Sherlock were in attendance to if there wasn’t an attempted murder. His speech derailed for a bit but when she heard the muttered code word to John and herself, she knew it was game time. As he rambled on and on about another case, (Y/n) leaned over to Greg and informed him to lock down the perimeter. It didn’t take long for Sherlock to solve it and save John’s military friends life after a long ramble to himself and the help of John and Mary. 

“Your piece was gorgeous, little Holmes.” (Y/n) smiled up at Sherlock when he approached where she sat. He had just finished playing his original violin piece and the guests, and the newly weds, loved it. He had also accidentally revealed that Mary was pregnant which had gone over most people's heads. He had his coat on his arm. “I do believe I was promised a dance.”

“I thought it’d be best for me to take my leave.” 

“Can I come with you? Could split a cab.” She stood as he offered her her coat that was hidden under his. 

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He helped her into her coat and together they walked outside and hailed a cab. They rode in a comfortable silence, the two have always gotten along much to Mycroft’s annoyance. The car stopped in front of Mycroft’s place. “I hope you don’t mind if I gave my dance away to someone else.” Sherlock gave her a mischievous smile. (Y/n) rolled her eyes and got out of the car. The lights were dim in the two story flat she and Mycroft shared. There was soft music drifting down the stairs, coming from his study no doubt. She took off her heels and threw them at the shoe rack she kept by the front door and padded her way upstairs. 

“My, did you fall asleep with your record player on again?” She pushed open his study door and gasped. Mycroft stood in the middle of the room, holding out his hand. All of the furniture had been pushed aside to make space. “What’s all this?” (Y/n) set her coat on one of the relocated chairs and stepped towards her boyfriend.

“Call it,” A pained look flashed across his features for a fraction of a second. “Call it a romantic gesture.” He took her hand in his, wrapping the other around her waist. A big smile bloomed on her face which made his heart flutter, if he was capable of such a silly notion. 

“I thought Sherlock was the dancer in the family.” (Y/n) laughed as he began to move.

“We took the same bloody lessons. Though, I haven’t kept up with it as he has.” Her laugh was more melodic than the orchestral piece coming from the record player. “I’m sorry about today. I don’t do well with public displays of affection, and combined with the expectations of weddings and the-” (Y/n) cut him off with a tender kiss.

“I forgive you, My.” She laid her head against his shoulder as they swayed slowly. “Let’s spend Christmas with your parents this year.” She looked up and met his startled gaze.

“Are you sure?”

“Think of it as making up for today.” She stopped their movement and gave him a look he knew all too well. “Now are you going to help me out of this dress or not?”

“Yes, love.”


	14. Always Faithful, Greg

A loud ringing ripped through the silent night air.

“Babe…” (Y/n) groaned. “Greg, your phone.” When the man didn’t stir, (Y/n) sighed and went to answer his phone.

“Lestrade, I’ve solved it. John and I will meet you there.” She rolled her eyes at the voice on the other side.

“He’ll be right there as soon as I wake him, Sherlock.” Sherlock hung up with an affirmative grunt. She went back over to the bed and sat on the edge by her husband, giving him a forceful shake, “Sherlock demands your presence.” A deep chuckle rumbled in his throat.

“What time is it?” He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Three. Come on, get ready and I’ll go make you some coffee.” With a quick kiss, they each went their separate ways, Greg to the bathroom and (Y/n) to the kitchen.

Greg was surprised that (Y/n) was so calm about all the late night calls, overtime, and periods where they wouldn’t see each other for days. Even after a year of marriage she still went along with his lifestyle and he couldn’t be happier. 

“Darling, where is my-” He called as he headed for the kitchen. (Y/n) met him at the doorway, holding out his coat for him to slip on. He turned around his arms were through and pulled her in for a kiss. “Thank you.” He whispered, laying his hands on her swollen stomach.

“It was just a coat.” (Y/n) touched his cheek and pulled away to grab his thermos. 

“I didn’t mean for my coat, I meant for everything. For the past two years, for our child,” A smile bloomed on (Y/n)’s lips. “No matter what comes up, you just go with it with a smile on your face and that is why I thanked you.” She set his coffee on the table and hugged her husband tightly.

“Silly man…” Greg’s phone went off once more. “Get going before he has both our heads.” She pushed him to the door, placing his thermos in his hand.

“Call if anything happens.” He opened the door. “And get plenty of rest!” Greg picked up his cell as he hailed a cab. Once he was out of site, (Y/n) sighed and headed back to bed.

~

“Can I get you anything Mary?” (Y/n) called from the kitchen. Mary chuckled.

“I’m fine. Please don’t strain yourself.” She rejoined her guest in the living room. “How far along are you now?”

“About eight and a half months. I could go any day now to be honest.” The two women sat and talked for a couple of hours until a hasty knock came at the front door.

“I’ll get it.” Mary nodded, standing to follow in case (Y/n) needed help. (Y/n) opened the door slowly. “Hi, can I help you?” On the stoop stood a woman, perhaps in her mid forties, looking at (Y/n) with malice.

“Oh, it’s you. Where is Greg? I need to speak with him.” The woman spat. (Y/n) glanced back at Mary who shook her head.

“He’s out on a case right now but he should be back soon so-” The strange woman just pushed her way inside.

“I’ll just wait here then.” She wandered into the flat, plopping herself down on the couch.

“Excuse me,” Mary stood in front of her, eyeing the woman in distrust. “But who are you exactly?” 

“I’m Linda Davis, formerly Linda Lestrade, and I’d appreciate it if you lost the attitude.” 

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t speak to my friends that way in my own house, Linda.” (Y/n) snapped back at her rude guest. “Why are you even here?”

“That’s between Gregory and me.” Linda gave a fake polite smile. “Let me look at you.” She seemed to inspect (Y/n) from top to bottom. Her eyes narrowed after finishing her sweep.

“I’m going to make tea.” (Y/n) said uneasily, rushing into the kitchen to text her husband.

 _Are you coming home soon?_ She put on the kettle and paced until her phone buzzed on the counter.

_I am leaving now. Should be there in 15, everything ok?_

_Yeah just hurry up, I’m fine._

With a tray carrying the pot and three cups, (Y/n) joined the other two once more. Mary took the tray and served the hot liquid while (Y/n) rested in her chair. No one uttered a word, the only communication being Mary and (Y/n) glancing at each other every so often. You could just about hear a pin drop when the front door opened and (Y/n) let out a sigh of relief. 

“(Nickname), what’s going on?” Greg nearly dropped his thermos when he saw who sat on his couch. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Can I speak with you privately?” Linda stood with a genuine smile. No one else in the room shared her joy.

“Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of my wife and our company.” He held a neutral face despite the growing anger in his chest.

“Fine, if that’s how it must be.” The woman rolled her eyes before grabbing Greg’s shirt and pulling him down to meet her lips. Mary had to hold (Y/n) back as she attempted to lunge at Linda.

“Calm down, he can handle it.” Mary tried to sooth her pregnant friend. They watched as Greg ripped away from his ex wife.

“Get out of my house.” He tried his best to be calm, for (Y/n)’s sake.

“Greg please, I miss you so much. We can work it out!” She pleaded. It was a pitiful display. “I can’t get you out of my head and it’s driving me crazy.” He shook his head.

“No Linda. I found someone who is everything you couldn’t be. I don’t have to worry about where she is or who she is with, she’s faithful to me and me only.” Greg sent (Y/n) a reassuring look before facing Linda once more. “I won’t say it again. Get. Out. Of. My. House.” 

“Fine.” She was on the verge of tears. Slowly, Linda glared at (Y/n) then walked out of the flat. Mary gave a light hug to (Y/n) and left as well, giving the couple their privacy.

“(Y/n)-” She quickly ran into his arms, hugging him.

“I will always be yours, I swear.” She doubled over as a sharp pain shot through her midsection.

“Oh god, it was the stress, I’m so sorry about h-”

“Greg! Please stop apologizing and call someone!” 

After much panic on the detectives part, (Y/n) made it to Saint Barts and delivered a healthy baby (baby gender). Sherlock was not pleased that Lestrade wouldn’t be helping on cases for awhile thanks to the new ‘inconvenience’, as he called it.


	15. Fool, Sherlock

How could you be so stupid?

"How are things with (Y/n)?"

You knew this is what it was, why are you so shocked?

"Fine. Things are fine."

You fooled yourself into thinking it was real.

"Fine? This is the first time you bring a woman home and it's just fine?" 

It was never real.

"Well, it's not fine, it's actually quite complicated."

And deep down…

"Why's that? She seems to make you happy. It's proof to your brother you aren't some hopeless virgin."

Deep down you knew it from the start. 

"Do you have any idea who that woman is? Who she's connected to?"

"Who she's connected to- Sherlock, are you serious? Using her-"

"Keep your voice down, John, she's asleep in my bedroom. (Y/n) works for the biggest mafia boss in England. If I play my cards right-"

"I cannot believe you right now! You're toying with her for information! That's low, even for you." 

"She's not attached, it's just sex."

"No, Sherlock, not the way she looks at you. You aren't making it seem that way to her."

"I do not make it out to be more than it is-" 

There was the chime of a text tone, silence, and the slamming of a door. (Y/n) decided now was the time to emerge from Sherlock's room, using the door slam as cover for being awake. John was sitting at the kitchen island with his face in his hand. He looked up as she padded into the room and offered a strained but warm smile. 

"Good morning, (Y/n). Would you like me to put on the kettle?" The woman shook her head and returned with her own struggled smile.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm alright." She stared at the front door. "He sure knows how to make an exit."

"That's one way to put it." John chuckled. He looked over the woman who had been sharing his best friend's bed. She was rather pretty, (h/c) unruly from sleep, her figure draped nicely in a thigh length nightshirt, but he paused when she turned back and fixed her eyes on the counter. They were dull, not at all how they'd been last night when the three of them had returned from dinner. The way her (e/c) eyes lit up when they landed on the eccentric detective made him envious, wishing he had someone who looked at him like that. (Y/n) glanced at him and he could tell-

"I wanted it to be real, John." She said quietly. "He fooled me."

"He fooled me too, (Y/n)." John reached across and squeezed her hand. 

"I forgot who it was I was getting involved with, a truly cold and unfeeling man." Her face hardened. "I was going to tell him everything. I was going to trust him to get me away from my boss and that life."

"We still can, we can keep you out of harm's way." Her bitter laugh sent a cold chill through him.

"You would. He'd be fine whether I was breathing or not." She stood and headed to the bedroom to get dressed, pausing in the doorway. "Text his brother. He'll cut me a safety deal." John sent a text to Mycroft as she had requested.

_(Y/n) would like a word with you. -J.W._

_Finally come to her senses, then._ John set his phone down and pondered the whole situation. Why did it have to be (Y/n)? There are plenty of people Sherlock could have manipulated but he chose the sweetest member of Raul Clementi’s personal staff to toy with. He should have realized sooner when Sherlock brought her home out of the blue. 

“I’ll see you around, John.” (Y/n) brushed a hand across his back and walked to the door.

“(Y/n), wait.” He turned and met her (e/c) gaze. “I haven’t heard him laugh like he did last night. Just thought you should know.”

“Thanks John. I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.” She sighed, shutting the door behind her.


End file.
